


go on, then, place my values right

by dramaticgasp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:40:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaticgasp/pseuds/dramaticgasp
Summary: Lance spins towards him, full body. ''Excuse me? I literally haven't said anything.''''Your voice is all in my head. I can't think, it's making my head hurt.''''Keith,'' Lance hisses.





	go on, then, place my values right

Wind the clock forward, and they will be on the neighbour-planet waiting to maybe intercept the transport ships, if they come, and Keith knows he'll have too much time to think and that Shiro will have his hands on the trigger for hours in advance – because he always tells them to learn from their mistakes, and Keith will watch him and think, _am I allowed to be angry now? It still won't do shit, but can I be angry now?_ And he'll see the crease between Shiro's eyebrows and think, _eyes off the target and you're the next clay pidgeon, use your eyes, use your eyes! Eyes on the—_

''—target both interest groups and community as a whole. Employ the bottom-up approach, encourage and train them, and so increase cooperation and engagement. We have heard that Voltron supports democratic principles.''

''Doesn't this rather concern economics?'' Allura asks. ''Voltron is primarily concerned with politics regarding liberty, not economic prosperity. Due to time restraints, if you understand.''

The translator stands exactly opposite where Keith is sitting. Keith went for the end of the desk and saw Shiro eye him, but didn't pick up the message, if there was one. There usually is one, he's learnt. He thinks he knows Shiro, but there is this phrase, _to know someone better than oneself_ , a phrase said with affection, and Keith doesn't know if he does – and he's never been good at telling phrases from reality.

''This qualifies as an emergency,'' the translator says, their vowels careful, ''there's a threat of integration of our political system. Political instability would leave us susceptible to further Galra occupations.'' More translating. Everybody waits with politeness in the curves in their shoulders. The translator says, ''We hoped to discuss our strategies. Mindful of that the bottom-up approach wasn't successful the last time.''

Keith looks through the glass wall, at this grapefruit planet, pink like a diluted blood drop. The plates of sandstone would tinge white socks pink, and one would call it _dirt_ like a question mark. 

Wind back the clock, and there was no question when he splayed money on a gas station counter, coins about which he later told Shiro he scraped up _here and there_ , and left it at that. The cashier shook his only note, and they both watched sand grains land atop of the change. And now, the sand of the desert he lived in is an everlasting ghost presence behind his fingernails. 

Not _his desert_. One can claim it but one can't own it.

It's dumb, but he misses the metal-tips of his Garrison boot laces.

''Voltron would be asked to help strengthen the authority.'' This diplomat speaks English without a glitch in their confidence.

''As a peace mission,'' Shiro says. Nods. The poster face that has burst through the bubble of space science – never without a photograph. 

''The desertland is the worst,'' the diplomat says like an admission. ''Dissatisfaction is notably growing, as is the desire for immigration to the landcenter. There have been issues with malnutrition, because of the inwards flow of goods. We thought – we'd prioritise making the utilisation of natural resources easier. For example, expand the sites for harvesting insects.''

Coran asks, ''Have you considered bringing decision making to a more local level?''

He and Allura are the only Castle members not wearing gas masks. _We believe there should be no acute toxicity_ , the emissary said; it's just gravity, low enough to make walking funny, dreamlike. With the mask, Keith can hear his own breathing.

The emissary led them to the opening into a settled valley, and Keith saw Lance narrow his eyes at the word _picturesque_ and scan desertland with hands on his hips. It's because desert isn't a component of the mold of his being, unlike Keith's, and he doesn't know how to look at it – unlike Keith, he mustn't be very good at watching unmoving things. He's a sniper, after all.

''Centralisation is the basis of our social order. And economics.''

''Wouldn't you free the market more if you established more cities?'' Shiro says. ''I believe it'd free both cultural and economic activity.''

The species' iris-less eyes, black, made Keith shiver at first sight. Black holes and eradication. Their eyes are farther apart and remind Keith of having learnt about depth perception, about binocular vision and predation, about—

Allura scrapes a stray strand of hair from her face. She says, ''I'm just doubtful about the necessity of our contribution. About how much help we could be.'' 

The translator speaks to his kind, and they speak back. The singing of their language makes Keith wonder: _do they sing lullabies to their kin?_

The translator says, ''Immense. There hasn't been a lot of faith in the government after the Galra incident.'' And Keith, now spaced back in, thinks: cut, don't bandage the cuts, then reconstruct the hospital. _Merry death and a happy resurrection._

''I don't know,'' Keith says, ''but I'd also be distrustful if I didn't know which politicians are affiliated with Galrans.''

There's a silence. 

''That's why we need Voltron by our side.''

''We'll gladly give voice to what we think of your policies, but re-establishing peace with our presence is a time commitment I'm afraid we can't afford to make,'' Allura says.

Keith thinks, _you should know detecting a lie is harder than you'd think_ , and then he hears muttering by his side where Pidge is sitting. She's looking forward, fingertips to fingertips like a businessman, listening.

''What?'' Keith half-whispers.

She glances at him for less than half a second, then whispers back, ''What?''

Shiro's eyes twitch is their directon. He says, ''Perhaps more transparency would help?''

The antennae of one of the diplomats move. It's unsettling. Do humans look that similar to them? Even with hair—

''How has your species effectively dealt with political treason?'' 

Allura looks at Shiro, Shiro looks at Lance, Lance looks back at Allura.

Hunk says, ''We were educated and trained in skills related to space exploration, rather than history.''

The eyes of the diplomat who asked are fixed on Hunk, sharp and dart-pointed, no blinking, then turn to Allura. ''And Alteans? Looking at the—''

 _Rude_ , Keith hears, and turns towards the voice – just to see Lance's face scrunched up in a small frown, his elbows on the desk and body leaning forward, and it reminds Keith of the first time he flew: his grip on the control wheel firm, re-adjusting his feet on the anti-torque pedals, sweat of the desert sun drizzling down his spine. _Relax, cadet_ , the flight instructor said, and then Keith remembered to lean his back to the backrest.

_say treason, but they were just trying to protect their people, and they sent convicts. They wouldn't have sent — don't excuse them, I don't actually think that_

''—control all politicians. But — internment of the traitors should deter further cooperation with the Galra.''

_sounds like gurgling. Like singing-gurgling. Is that what gurgling sounds like? When we talk, do they find_

Keith covers his ears. Nothing happens. Shiro catches his gaze.

_why are you looking at me like that_

''If I'm not mistaken,'' Hunk says, ''on Earth, prison doesn't deter crime. Conclusively.''

_they probably know that the Galra wouldn't use anesthetics on their people – they said examinations but they must know that it's the same fucking thing as experiments, the same fucking_

''We're trying to start anew, not deny the offender's culpability. We'd just like to leave the past behind. But we feel like not using the medical data the Galra sent us would be a waste of their — sacrifices.''

_suffering. Like the Nazi medical experiments_

_like the Nazi problem! With data about_

''On Earth,'' Shiro says, ''there is a controversy around that, because – using the data would be seen as threatening to the condemnation of the violence. Like it could be excused because—''

''Because of its utility,'' Keith finishes. ''You were gonna say that.''

Rewind: Shiro called their armour _ceremonious_ and their boots clicked on the glass floor at the welcome meal, glass floors and sand walls like inverted common sense, and Keith was copper among silver tongues. It's like having an out-of-body experience, Keith thought, when the person sitting beside you laughs like fire, chokes on a joke you don't find funny. He expected the drinks to taste foreign, but the tastes were strangely familiar.

_is there something wrong? Isn't that what the controversy is about? Why are you looking_

''Keith, what is it?'' Shiro asks, an uptick of impatience flaring – because Keith knows him like his own pockets, maybe like himself, but not like—

''That's what you were thinking, right?'' Keith insists. ''I know what you're thinking. There must've been something in the drinks, before.''

He says that, and for a moment, his head is full of radio silence.

''What do you mean?'' Shiro asks in a way that reminds Keith of asking about caution signs.

_mine? Do you mean – mine only, is it a bond thing, because of Voltron, or_

_know what he's thinking because you know how he thinks or know what he's thinking, like, mindreading, like in some freaky—_

Keith turns to Lance, ''Shh,'' he says and then feels stupid, ''I can't think because of you.''

Lance spins towards him, full body. '' _Excuse me_? I _literally_ haven't said anything.''

''Your voice is all in my head. I can't think, it's making my head hurt.'' 

'' _Keith_ ,'' Lance hisses.

_why do I bother, it was fucking figurative speech – when have you understood undertones, even when they were over everything, why do I ever bother. You're like a wolf, Keith, raised with — the eye thing you're doing_

_it's words_

''What?'' Keith asks, in no particular direction.

''It's words. You're hearing worded thoughts,'' Pidge says.

_I'm right, aren't I_

_impossible. I mean, obviously_

''How is this possible?'' Hunk asks.

_your mask is fogging. Are you breathing weird? Or is the device not_

''Oh, boy. I have no idea,'' Pidge says, something in her voice sparked up.

_what have i been thinking? Don't think weird things. God. Don't think that. Don't think_

_can hear this, right? Some sci-fi shit. But, I mean, considering_

''How,'' Keith hisses through his teeth.

''You ingested one of the sense enhancers?'' a diplomat asks, antennae moving, again, ''Psychostimulants are inappropriate for diplomatic meetings.'' 

_they — make drugs out of their insects, what was I expecting. The non-insects. Wanna-be – whoa – thank fuck they can't hear my thoughts. Otherwise making_

_are they listening to what we're thinking?_

''You're not listening to our thoughts right now, are you?'' Allura says to the English speaking representative, managing to sound both unrelenting and kind, ''That would seem at odds with politesse, and effective diplomacy.''

''Excuse me,'' Keith says, standing up, needing to leave, leaving the chair misaligned the way he was told not to when he lived in—

_just leave? Always so callous, why do you always have to be so extra? And you don't even intend to be, do you. You just happen to explode into a fireworks display, you just skyrocket like you did just now, this is supposed to be a quiet night, it's not even_

The glass door swings behind him, and Keith tries to put more weight into his steps to drown out the voices.

_fixing your_

''Keith!''

He clears his throat and for a moment the sound of it occupies the space of his head, but then he feels the Lance-bubble at his heels and stops like a shutdown, except he's _on_ , except his fence is electrified—

''Shiro told me to go after you.''

_it's your own damn fault people see you as unapproachable, do you even know that? And now, ah, can you not. Don't look at me like that, like–_

''Are you gonna tell me to stop listening to your thoughts,'' Keith says through gritted teeth. ''You're the one who came after me.''

''Can you not? Shiro told me to. So, like, tell me if you need anything, or tell me where you're going so that I can go tell him.'' 

_why do you always look at me like that. And why do you bite the inside of your cheek when_

Keith unclenches his jaws – how does Lance know, literally, how does he know when Keith hasn't told him, when he hasn't noticed himself, and Lance never asks, what's it to him? Lance mustn't be good at seeing unmoving things. He shouldn't be—

_man. Like, shit. Your hair suits your personality_

''What does that even _mean_ ,'' Keith sounds exasperated now, self-control drowned out, ''Why are you — _don't think about my hair_.'' He's snapping, but Lance is dispersed, his thoughts are everywhere, like weed – he's always been diffuse, but now Keith can't—

_for god's sake, and then you'll say I'm_

''Intrusive thoughts,'' Lance says, all venom, all snake teeth.

''Yeah,'' Keith says, ''they're _everywhere._ ''

_fuck you fuck you fuck_

''You know what, I don't want to be here either. It's you who drank the shit.''

''I didn't _choose to_.''

''You could have chosen to _not drink it_.''

Keith feels his insides simmering and thinks at Lance, _I'll go fucking crazy, you're fucking with me, do you ever not fuck with me?_ and wishes it flew straight into the core of Lance's brain like a firecracker.

_oops, shit. I've— has he ever even heard that talk? I wouldn't be surprised. I'm_

''You could have checked the content,'' Lance says.

Lance's eyes are big and clear, like blue grapefruit and diluted blood drops, like light-reflection.

_sorry_

''Oh my god, it's fine,'' Keith breathes out the breath he was holding. ''Fuck you, but it's fine. Look,'' he says, looking for words, ''Can you, like, go? I don't want to tell you to go, but—'' the words are never there, are they, ''my head hurts,'' he says, a half-lie. 

Lance straightens his back. ''Yeah, I'll go.'' He readjusts the mask tube over his shoulder. ''I'll tell Shiro you'll be back in the meeting office within an hour.'' Gives Keith a look that makes him think, _sit and stay, comply_. 

Makes him think, _at ease._

_find me some coffee_

When Keith turns, Lance is walking backwards, the corner of his mouth twisted upwards, and he remembers the muscles around mouth corners are one of the hardest muscles to control voluntarily.

Lance is whistling as he's walking away, and Keith's head feels like a windless oceanic surface. For a second, he wishes he would know what Lance is thinking, but his head hurts, and Shiro has said, _kindness is an act. You can think whatever, but if you don't act kindly, you have misplaced values; and then somebody needs them from you, and then what?_ Keith turns away before Lance re-enters the office. He doesn't know where he'll go yet.

There is a lot of choices – and nothing temperate about people.

  



End file.
